


Cooperation

by Zoa



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Unilock, found it on the sherlollilists page on tumblr, it's a beautiful page, teacher set up au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoa/pseuds/Zoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and Sherlock don't get along. Their professors are tired of their arguing. Those professors also think they would make the perfect couple. Meddling in the lives of students commences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooperation

For the first three weeks of university Professors’ Lestrade and Hudson had been plagued by students. Two students in particular with conflicting personalities that were in their classes. They always argued with each other, no matter where they sat in the room. However, the wise professors couldn’t shake the feeling that if only the two of them could cooperate and actually talk _to_ each other instead of _at_ each other, they would make the perfect couple. As a result a collusion started between the criminal law professor and the forensic pathology professor. A secret assignment between the two of them.

 

* * *

 

“And Mr. Holmes and Miss Hooper, you two will go over cases from after the Great War. Alright, that’s all for today. See you all tomorrow.” Dr. Martha Hudson dismissed her class with a smile, realizing all too well the devastation she had just caused.

“Um, Dr. Hudson?” Molly Hooper slowly approached her professor, looking timid. “I think there might be some mistake...”

“What do you mean, my dear?” The older woman asked innocently.

“She means that she doesn’t know why you paired us together.” A deep, irritated voice said behind Molly. The pathology student rolled her eyes but nodded.

“Yes, actually. I don’t think we would work together well,” she admitted.

“Neither do I,” her project partner said.

“Mr. Holmes, Miss Hooper,” Dr. Hudson’s tone was stern. “I don’t appreciate my students questioning my decisions. I think this would be a good exercise in cooperation, not to mention research. That should be enough for the both of you.” She withheld a smile as the two students before her looked at each other sheepishly and nodded. “Good day, then.” She added pointedly, and the two unhappy young people left. Martha Hudson chuckled and very nearly pat herself on the back. “Your turn, Greg,” she murmured.

 

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous!” Molly exclaimed. It was after Professor Lestrade’s criminal law class and she was sitting in the university’s student union with her best friend, Mary Morstan. “We’re paired together _again_! It’s like they want to torture me.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” Mary said, grinning. Molly shot her a glare.

“It’s not funny at all, Mary. I have to cooperate with this pompous arse for the rest of the term.”

“Wait a minute, isn’t Sherlock Holmes the one you told me was the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen?” Mary asked, to which Molly groaned and laid her head on the table.

“I’m going to fail,” she lamented, her voice muffled. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

 

* * *

 

John Watson watched his friend pace their dorm room. Back and forth, back and forth, ranting about the conspiracy his professors had evidently planned to destroy his university career.

“I can’t work with her.” He stated.

“Is the problem that you don’t like how she’s gotten better scores than you on all the tests?” John asked with a smirk. “Oh, and that she stands up to you in class when you’re being an arse.”

Sherlock slowly turned and leaned over his friend’s chair. “I’m not petty, John.”

“I don’t think you’re petty. I think you don’t like being bested, and Molly Hooper bests you sometimes.” John grinned. “Personally, I like her, and I think, deep down, you do too.”

“Of course you would think that.” Sherlock plunked himself down into his black beanbag chair and pouted. “You don’t understand. I don’t know how I’ll get through this term.”

 

* * *

 

The first two weeks of working with each other weren’t terrible, though Sherlock was sullen and of course had to insult her in some way when they met, but the relative easiness lulled Molly into thinking she could survive working with Sherlock Holmes. Then came the point they had to decide who was going to present for their projects. Molly let him take the criminology project, but when he insisted on taking the lead for the pathology project, she put her foot down. They were discussing the issue in a library study room, a table between them as they argued.

“I have pathology as my career path! Pathology is my life! Of course it should be me!” Molly exclaimed. “You didn’t even get the diagnosis right when we looked at the file!”

“A technicality,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I got everything else right.”

“You knew what he had eaten a scone for tea,” she scoffed. “Not the project, not important. _I_ figured it out.” She crossed her arms.

Sherlock stood up and placed his hands on the table. “I noticed the blueness of his skin.”

Molly stood up and mimicked his stance. “You thought he drowned.” She sneered.

“Drowning has very similar symptoms to the Spanish Flu. You could have easily made the same mistake if you didn’t feel the need to neurotically pick over the pictures,” he snapped. Molly’s eyes widened.

“I think that’s a good thing, considering you were wrong!” she spit back. “But you can’t just admit that, can you? No, the great Sherlock Holmes, wannabe detective, just _has_ to be right all the time!”

“Wannabe detective?” Sherlock glared at his petite and irritating partner. “I have solved all of the ten cases the police have called me in on.”

Molly barked out a laugh. “You weren’t ‘called in’. You pushed your way in. They probably would have been fine solving it on their own. Professor Lestrade is an excellent detective.” She added with an admiration that irritated Sherlock.

“No they wouldn’t and no he’s not.” His scowl grew deeper. “You would see that if you weren’t so infatuated with him.”

Molly flushed. “I’m not infatuated with him!” She protested. 

“Then why are you blushing?” Sherlock pointed at her triumphantly.

“Because! And y-you’re deflecting from the problem!” She squeaked. “You! You’re an arrogant bastard who can’t stand to be wrong!”

“I admitted I was wrong earlier,” he said. “ _You_ simply cannot accept I can be humble because it interferes with your self-righteous determination to be morally superior.”

Molly’s mouth dropped open and for a moment she was literally speechless. She didn’t even notice how they had gradually moved closer together throughout the conversation to the point where they were standing only inches from each other.

“How d-dare you!” she sputtered. 

“How dare I? How dare you judge me?” he demanded. “You don’t have the right to judge my faults when you won’t admit your own, Molly Hooper!”

“Oh yes!” She rolled her eyes. “I have such a problem with admitting my own problems!” She responded sarcastically. “While you have no obstacles whatsoever from conceding yours!” She poked him in the chest. Her face was red and her eyes glistened with frustrated tears.

“I have said no such thing,” he stated flatly.

“But you have no problem grinding on about people and their own problems, not to mention your incessant need to be the best at everything!” Molly realized the argument had gotten out of hand but she didn’t know how reign in her ire again. “What you did yesterday in Professor Hudson’s class-”

“Shut up.”

Molly looked at him dumbfounded. She was about to open her mouth to protest his utter rudeness but before she could he was kissing her and her mind went blank. His hands were gripping her shoulders tightly and his lips were hard on hers only for a second before he became gentle and then pulled away. Molly watched as his face turned from uncertain to smug and had a sudden desire for revenge – there was no way she was going to let him distract her without giving him a taste of his own medicine. She stood on tiptoe, grabbed his face between her hands, tugged him down, and kissed him back. He flailed for a moment, stumbled back and fell on the table, Molly on top of him. The sudden motion of the fall surprised Molly into releasing him, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling to the side and hitting a chair.

They looked at each other, both breathing rapidly, and both frozen in their position, chest-to-chest. Molly watched as his eyes flitted to her lips and up to her eyes again and her stomach flipped. Her heart beating quickly in her chest she slowly lowered her head and her lips met his for the third time, but chastely and timidly. As she pulled away she felt his free arm lift, his hand sifted into her hair, and they were kissing again, covering each other’s mouths and necks with their lips. Soon Molly was straddling his waist, his hands were gripping her hips, and there was absolutely nothing chaste or gentle about the situation.

“Um, excuse me?”

Molly and Sherlock tumbled off the table and away from each other at the sound of another person entering the study room. They glanced at each other’s disheveled appearance and then at the wide-eyed student in the doorway.

“They said this room was empty...” the young man said.

“We were just leaving,” Sherlock said and gathered up his bag. “Molly?”

Molly nodded, picked up her things as well, and hurried out, murmuring an apology to the student as she passed. She walked quickly out of the library, adjusting her clothes back to modesty as she went. Sherlock strode beside her, not seeming to care that his crisp white shirt hung haphazardly out of his trousers. Molly didn’t even remember how that had happened. He glanced down at her and his eyes widened. Molly froze.

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“Ah, your neck...” his eyes darted away guiltily. Molly quickly pulled out her cosmetic mirror from her purse and held it up to her neck. There was noticeable dark mark on the left side. She slapped a hand to her neck and glared up at him.

“Sherlock!”

“Sorry.”

Molly sighed and shook her head. “Well, you shut me up pretty well, didn’t you,” she said bitterly. “Tell me the truth, Sherlock. Did you mean any of that? Or was it some ruse to make me forget my issues with you?” She looked up at him with little hope. Sherlock tilted his head slightly as he met her gaze, a frown on his face.

“Do you honestly believe, Molly, that what happened in there was a ruse?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know... I thought you hated me.”

“Everything you said in the library points to _you_ hating _me_ ,” he said placidly.

“I’ve had a massive crush on you since day one,” she blurted out. “I think you’re brilliant and handsome and when you deduce people – even though you’re an arse when you do it – I can’t help but feel, well... a little turned on. And I think it’s amazing what you do for the police. I’ve never hated you. I don’t think I can.”

Sherlock was smirking by the end of her confession and she slapped his arm.

“Stop it!” she insisted and couldn’t help the smile on her face, but then her expression turned to one of trepidation. “Do you hate me? I said so many awful things in there. I’m so sorry. But you never seemed to like me before anyway.”

Sherlock sighed. “Every single one of those things I probably deserved. No, Molly Hooper. I don’t hate you. I didn’t think much of you before, to be honest. Until you rebuked me the first time,” he added quickly, seeing hurt cross her face. “You... impressed me. Not only because you’re one of the few people who do dare chastise me, but also because of your knowledge and passion for your chosen path. You do best me. And I think you’re brilliant.” He smiled down at her.

Molly was grinning. “Sherlock. Would you like to come to my dorm and, um, study some more?” she asked sweetly. The look on her face was anything but sweet and it made Sherlock’s body tingle in anticipation.

“I think that would be most prudent of us.” He replied with an eager nod.

 

* * *

 

Professor Hudson and Lestrade later lamented to each other over a half-failed matchmaking venture. There was no calming of the arguments made in class, no dissipation of the criticisms made by the two students. Instead there was heated snogging in the hall outside after class, as if Molly and Sherlock knew what their professors had been up to and were punishing them for dabbling in a profession not their own. The professors swore to never match-make again.

Then again, there was that nice John Watson and Mary Morstan...


End file.
